Other Side of the Door
by WickedIsTheWord
Summary: Artie glared up at Puck, the same look in his eyes as when Puck had entered the room. The one that told him to stop whining and be glad he had usable legs. The look that said that Artie's life still and forever would suck more than Puck's. A/N Gory, slash


Puck had only come down the hallway after hearing banging, even if he'd ignored all the other signs. Signs that had shown up even before today. He'd had so long to notice what was happening, but ignored it. Just like everyone else had.

He knew hateful words were spun at him, and hell, he'd even joined in. 'Cripple', 'wheels', and some that Puck wasn't even familiar with. The boy had shrugged them off, or had done a damn good job of making sure everyone thought he did.

Artie was never alone; he always had Tina with him. He should have been fine, because she always looked out for him. Glee club looked out for him. But some days Tina was absent and the 'gleeks' turned a blind eye.

Those were the worst days for Artie, when he couldn't stop himself. Tina wasn't there to talk him out of it. Mr. Schue couldn't pretend he understood how Artie felt. No one could or would change his mind.

Today was one of those days.

Puck had completely ignored the music room, and made a point to go in  
there as little as possible. Being in glee was already damaging his popularity. Singing in the shower or while drunk was one thing, but for competition? That was something to be ashamed of in Lima.

Puck had already walked by the music room once, but had heard nothing. At least, he pretended he hadn't. The second time, he told himself maybe it was just a bass beat coming from the speakers as someone practiced their song. But the third time, it wasn't just hollow noises; there was crying to go with it.

He finally gave in an entered the room, but not before checking that no one was around. He wouldn't be caught dead in the music room with one of his football or hockey 'buddies'.

He looked in the room and saw Artie, facing the wall, slamming himself into it. Looking over to his right, he also spots Sue Sylvester's trophy, the glass protecting it smashed and scattered across the floor.

Puck stared in utter shock, taking a few seconds to comprehend what was happening before walking around to face Artie. Artie's face is not much better than Coach Sue's previously perfect trophy case.

His face is covered in blood, but he's still wearing that stupid self-righteous grin Puck's always hated; the one that says 'my life is and will always be worse than yours, asshole, and I'm just fine here so you should shut the fuck up already.'

"What is it, Puck? Isn't this all you ever wanted?" he asks. Puck doesn't know what to say.

"Wha-What the hell do you mean, this is all I've ever wanted?" Puck asked, tripping over his words as he struggled to think of what to say.

"Insults. Ignorance. You've heard this before; you know that it happens every day that Tina's out. I thought even you would be smart enough to put two-and-two together." Artie sneered playing with a stay shard of glace that was left on his lap.

Puck was ashamed to admit he had heard, but he didn't know this went on. He had figured it was something... Something else. Not self-harm.

"Stop that. You're going to hurt yourself." Puck snapped, at breaking point. Artie had begun to hold the two sharpest corners of the glass with his fingers, staring at the see-through shard.

"It's a bit too late for that, huh?" Artie asked post-humorously, picking at the white collar shirt that was now died red and pink. He pressed the glass harder between his fingers.

Small cuts began to form, trickling out blood. Artie smiled sadly at the sight and pressed the glass harder, until he changed his hold to the smooth side and started o bring into his wrists.

"No." Puck said firmly, making sure there was no argument. He walked over and picked Artie up, forcing him to drop the glass. Artie's legs hung limply over Puck's chest while his fists pummeled into Puck's chest viciously.

"Let me down you bastard! Since when did you care about me!" Artie shrieked as Puck walked over to one of the seats and dropped Artie into it. He sat behind Artie quickly and placed both his hands on Artie's shoulders. This would have been a comforting motion if not for the fingers just below Artie's collar bone, ready to press the pressure point located there at moment's notice.

After several minutes of silence and Puck's observation of Artie [bloody nose from face slamming into wall, cuts made by glass and glass in the skin, some bloody gashes on his wrists], Puck broke the silence.

"I never said I didn't care about you."

"You sure as hell never acted or spoke like that."

"I'm sorry, but my life is just such a bitch, and I have to do it or be ridiculed."

"Like me."

"Yea."

Artie glared up at Puck, the same look in his eyes as when Puck had entered the room. The one that told him to stop whining and be glad he had usable legs. The look that said that Artie's life still and forever would suck more than Puck's.

"Is the first time? I mean, like seriously wanting to... To commit suicide?" Puck asked, biting his lip.

"No... The first time was back when Tina told me she'd been faking her stutter. After I left, I went to the auditorium. I tried to roll myself off the edge of the stage. Brittany found me and asked if she could borrow my wheelchair and sort of took it, so I couldn't go anywhere. Can we stop talking about this?"

Artie looked visibly uncomfortable, shifting his upper body as he folded his arms to hide the paler and older scars from Puck. Puck already knew that Artie had tried to kill himself. He didn't need him to know that this wasn't his first or second attempt.

"No, we're talking about it. I never meant any of those things I said." Puck continued, staring directly at Artie. It only made Artie feel more I'll at ease, and want to share less and less. Even if not-so-deep-down he wanted

"If you don't mean things then you shouldn't say them. Like I shouldn't say that I love you." Artie was careful to use to should-not instead of would-not. Even Artie followed his rule of only saying the truth that people needed to hear.

Puck nodded vaguely, obviously not listening, and Artie's heart sunk. He wasn't getting it. All the more reason to cease existing. His list of reasons why to leave was growing each day.

"Do you need anything?" puck asked, sounding serious. It was strange to hear words of complete maturity coming out of Puck's mouth. It was foreign, yet nice.

Artie wanted to say that he wanted Puck to stay that forever, not to move until he etched the photo into his memory, but Puck had already removed his hands. He was already farther away. But still closer than usual.

Artie shook his head numbly, letting his hair hang in his eyes to hide any forming tears. He knew they were coming. Puck seemed oblivious though, only saying, "I'll be right back, I'm just getting a teacher."

As Puck left, Artie's shoulders began to feel burned from Puck's touch. But it was a nice burn, not like the ones that came with the self inflicted scars. He didn't want it to leave.

Puck stood outside, staring at his hands. They stung as if he had shoved them in a bucket of ice, yet it was nice, in a strange, twisted way. He felt it was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He wished it would fade soon.

One boy stared at the door to another in complete understanding, while the boy on the other side of the door stared in confusion.

Written for a prompt in glee_angst_meme: " His face is covered in blood, but he's still wearing that stupid self-righteous grin Puck's always hated; the one that says 'my life is and will always be worse than yours, asshole, and I'm just fine here so you should shut the fuck up already.'"


End file.
